


a call to motion

by elizabethgee



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Angst, Anxiety, Arthur doesn't know about Merlin's magic, Blink and you'll miss it, Cuddling, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prince Arthur, Sneaky Magic, a hint at unwanted touching, hurt Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29617062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabethgee/pseuds/elizabethgee
Summary: Just a short little interlude. Prince Arthur is overwhelmed by a rough day and takes comfort in Merlin's embrace.There's a hint of ablesim in this. Details in chapter end notes.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 86





	a call to motion

God he just wants to turn his brain _off_. Rain pounds against the glass window behind his desk, relentless and heavy in the freezing evening air. It had been pouring since dawn— flooding the city streets and keeping people stuck indoors. Normally the sound of rain soothes him, but after the day he’s had….

Arthur drops his quill to his cluttered desk, pressing his face into his hands and sighing tightly. The lingering headache that had greeted him when he woke this morning throbs at his temples and he groans into his palms.

Everything had gone wrong today. He woke up late, skipped breakfast to make it to the meeting he had with his father, made a fool of himself at the meeting with Farley Cheshiree from the neighboring kingdom of Andor, twisted his ankle in sword training, had to hobble to his next meeting with Kennard about the rising price of wool, and to top it all off he struggled to eat any dinner due to the pain in his head. Not to mention all the little things that kept cropping up today: a leak in the roof of the castle’s southernmost turret, a nest of rats taking up residence in the dry cellars, the struggle to start fires in the castle’s hearths—

On and on and on it went.

Arthur grimaces, dropping his hands and looking around at all the terrible piles of paper looming on his desk, waiting for his attention.

Warm candlelight floods light across the worn wooden surface, taunting him with all the things he didn’t accomplish today. Overwhelmed, he looks up and stares into the dark corners of his room. A familiar crushing loneliness wells up in his chest, biting at his ribcage and squeezing his heart.

Tomorrow his father will chastise him heavily for his blunder at the Andor meeting this morning, and Uther will have some choice words to say about that twisted ankle as well. Arthur can hear it already:

_How do you expect the people of Camelot to fear you if all it takes to bring you down is a little mud on the training ground?_

Arthur grits his teeth against the burn in his throat.

His mind spins, dragging up more debris from the day. Morgana had been extra cagey, snapping at Uther and avoiding Arthur’s gaze. And that visiting Baron from Escetir had behaved so strangly…Arthur had given him a quick tour of the castle and he _swears_ he felt the Baron’s hand brush against his lower spine as Arthur lead the way into the armory. His skin crawls with the memory of that man’s hot, beady eyes on his skin.

He brings a hand up, rubbing at the back of his neck as though he can wipe the feeling away.

And Corliss and Dane were at each other’s throats again during training…he _really_ needs to figure that out—

To top it all off, he hadn’t seen Merlin _once_ today. Gaius had him out collecting herbs since daybreak, and Arthur understands that it’s important for the healer to be able to do his work, but it still would have been nice to see Merlin for a second…

Merlin’s pretty blue eyes manifest in his mind’s eye. Today would have been so much easier if Merlin had been by his side. He could just look over and see Merlin’s broad smile, the glittering humor in his eyes—

Arthur stands, a strange jittery feeling coalescing in his chest. He takes a step without thinking and hisses, sharp pain shooting up his leg. Fuck, he forgot about his ankle—

Bracing himself against his desk, Arthur smacks his knuckles against the wooden surface once, anger spilling over.

He should just go to sleep, but a quick glance at his empty bed makes the crawling feeling in his chest spike and he turns away, frowning.

 _Merlin’s probably asleep,_ Arthur tells himself.

Rain thunders against the castle.

Arthur should just go to sleep in his own bed and deal with all those papers tomorrow when he can think properly again.

Thunder rolls through the sky, echoing off the walls of his cold, empty room.

With a curse, Arthur puts out the candles on his desk and limps to the door.

There are no guards to ask him what he’s doing up, so he slowly makes his way through the dark hallways, biting his cheek at the occasional spark of pain in his ankle.

\---

It’s a slow journey, and he stares at Gauis’ door for a long time before he settles on knocking quietly. This is so stupid. He has no reason for being here—

Arthur glances down the empty hall, wondering if he should just go back to his room—

The door cracks open.

“Arthur?” Merlin’s sleepy voice greets him.

He turns back to Gaius’ door and his breath punches out of him. Merlin’s familiar, inquisitive eyes blink at him in the dark, his sleep clothes rumpled and soft—

“Are you alright?” Merlin asks.

Is he alright? Of course he is. He _has_ to be, he’s the prince of Camelot—

“Arthur?” Merlin’s voice sharpens and Arthur tries to smile, knowing it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m fine, Merlin. Just couldn’t sleep,” Arthur lets slip, clenching his hands into fists at his side.

“Did you find all those herbs Gaius needed?” he asks, desperate for some fucking reason to be here—

“Yes,” Merlin answers, sharp eyes travelling along Arthur’s form. Arthur feels stripped open and bare— foolish—

He looks down at the stone floor and clears his throat, hot shame swelling up—

Merlin says his name, voice full of sleepy warmth, and Arthur looks up to find the door wide open, Merlin gesturing him in.

Of course Merlin gets what he cannot say.

He slips into Gaius’ chambers, following Merlin past the sleeping healer to the back of the room. As soon as Merlin closes the door to his quarters Arthur slides up behind him, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s waist and tugging him close. He presses his face against Merlin’s neck and breathes. He smells of herbs— lavender and mint— and warm skin, and clean hair—

“Bed,” Merlin murmurs, twisting in Arthur’s arms.

Arthur slips his boots off and they squeeze together onto the small mattress, pulling the thin sheets over their bodies.

Merlin lies on his back and Arthur presses close, laying face down against Merlin’s side and throwing an arm over his skinny waist, pinning him to the bed. He presses his face to the junction of Merlin’s jaw and Merlin grips his forearm, holding Arthur’s arm around his waist. His other hand slides behind Arthur’s head and he starts carding his fingers through Arthur’s hair.

Tension slips away, dropping to a low hum at the back of his mind. The rain seems less relentless here, pattering against the roof and walls with a gentle rhythm, washing away the stress of the day.

“Heard you twisted your ankle today,” Merlin murmurs.

Arthur frowns. Of course news of his incompetence would spread so quickly—

“Gaius said you refused the crutch he offered you,” Merlin mumbles. Arthur can hear the disapproval in Merlin’s voice and his heart thrums.

“Hmm,” Arthur acknowledges. He can’t be seen walking around with a crutch. Merlin’s fingers are familiar and soothing against his scalp.

Merlin’s touch always feels _good_. Arthur’s not used to such soft treatment—

He hums, pulling back to drop a quick kiss to Merlin’s neck before going back to his hiding place against Merlin’s sleep warm skin. Merlin tugs him closer in response, rubbing their feet together beneath the sheets.

With each stroke of Merlin’s long fingers the headache backs off, dropping to a low hum at the base of his skull. Even his ankle stops throbbing. Arthur takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with Merlin’s familiar scent, and lets it go. It will all still be there tomorrow— the responsibilities and the stress and the blunders— but for a couple hours his brain can just be _off_ and he can relax in the safe cocoon of Merlin's presence.

Fuck. He needed this. He needs Merlin. The thought is painful, because he shouldn’t _need_ so much—

“Go to sleep,” Merlin whispers, voice rumbling beneath Arthur’s cheek. “I’ll wake you up in the morning.”

The world softens, the rhythmic thrum of rain against the roof lulling him into the calm sea of unconsciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> Ableism warning: Arthur doesn't want to be seen using a crutch after he hurts his ankle.


End file.
